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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824354">Someone you maybe might love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceansolace/pseuds/oceansolace'>oceansolace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Bright Sessions (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Fix-It, M/M, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:40:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceansolace/pseuds/oceansolace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“My feelings for you never went away. I should have forgot about you, but I couldn’t. I can’t. Joanie can think whatever she wants, that you still hold some control over me or something, that it’s Stockholm syndrome, but I know that’s not the case. I want you. All of you, the good, the bad, the bullshit. I want it.”</p><p>His next words are quieter.</p><p>“I haven’t forgiven you. I’m not sure I can, but. I can’t let you go either. I don’t want to.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Bryant/Damien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title is from the song 'Supercut' by Lorde!</p><p>I've been forced out of the woodworks to write my own fic since I'm starving for more of these two together! It's my first attempt, so I very much welcome any constructive criticism.</p><p>Thanks for suffering with me, boy do I wish this ship was more popular.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He tries to make it work, he really does. To be the Mark that Joanie remembers, the Mark that Sam has come to expect, the one that all the people around him believe he is.</p><p>The one that has come to exist through stories from his sister, through the idealisation and dreams of Sam, and through the resulting expectations of the rest of their little atypical family, as some of them fondly call the group.</p><p>He’s really tried.</p><p>It’s just-…</p><p>It does’t fit. Not anymore, perhaps not ever. Mark is not who they think he is. He feels like an imposter in his own life, in his own head sometimes even.</p><p>It’s hard, to make sense of who he was and who he is now, of past and present versions of the one Mark Bryant.</p><p>The AM did a real number on him, not to mention being stuck in time for literally years. And the events following his release, or escape, or rescue or whatever you liked to call it.</p><p>Different words coming from different people, all with different versions and perspectives in their minds.</p><p>It gives him a headache to think about.</p><p>How do you come to a decision about what is wrong, and what is right, what is real, and what is not, when everything is so different inside people’s heads? One experience will be perceived and remembered in different ways by every single person present for it.</p><p>Perhaps you just follow the majority.</p><p>Like with Damien, there had been a consensus amongst all of them that he was bad news. The worst of news, in fact, and better gone from all their lives.</p><p>Except-…</p><p>Except Mark remained unsure. It still hurt his head, to think about, to try and figure out. What had been real, what had not, what he’d felt, what had been genuinely him, and what had been Damien.</p><p>When he had left town, after Mark told him to, it was true what he’d said to Sam and Joanie, and eventually the rest of them. That he felt lighter.</p><p>He’d left it at that though. He hadn’t explained how it wasn’t necessarily a good thing, that it wasn’t really the lightness that came with an immense weight taken off your chest, but rather, that lightness that comes with feeling unsteady, feeling weak upon your feet. A ship adrift at sea, no sail, no rodder, no anchor.</p><p>He felt lost. He felt sick, sometimes. His chest empty, stomach roiling, nauseated and dizzy almost. As if he was just now getting off a wild ride, and he’d been holding something when he first got on, but he lost it at some point, and now he can’t even remember what it was.</p><p>What had he been holding?</p><p>It felt important.</p><p> </p><p>Things don’t work out between him and Sam. She’s wonderful, absolutely amazing, and someone will be lucky to have her one day.</p><p>But it’s not him. They both agree on that.</p><p>She will continue her work with the AM and with Joanie, and she will continue to work on her anxiety, and respecting boundaries. Becoming better.</p><p>And he…will try as well.</p><p>Apart from each other.</p><p>Mark had loved her at some point, but their combined issues had ruined that. He wasn’t able to forgive her, for what she’d done, for what she continued to do despite knowing better, not always being able to help herself. And he accepted that, he just… couldn’t love her anymore.</p><p>And she him, with his drinking, and his trauma, and his longing to get away, to get out, to run.</p><p>He still hadn’t figured out if he was running to, or from, something, but he told Joanie he wanted to see the world, to travel. That he had gotten a gig with a band, and he would go with them on their tour.</p><p>It would be easier for her that way. She worried, and she wouldn’t understand.</p><p>She never had, really. He loved his sister, and while they had many things in common, they were also incredibly different.</p><p>There was someone who did understand though. Who in a fucked up way always had, despite lacking a desire himself to travel anywhere or see or do anything at all really.</p><p>But he had understood the wanting to get away part. Perhaps even the running.</p><p>He had been a friend, and a bastard, and a fiend.</p><p>And…</p><p>Something else too, different entirely.</p><p>Mark thinks of Damien, often. He would never confess to it, lest his entire atypical family staged an intervention and had him sit through hours of therapy or something. Though thankfully, they knew better than to ever do something as cruel as have him committed.</p><p>But he did. Does. Think of Damien.</p><p>Of dark hair, surprisingly delicate wrists, his brusque manners.</p><p>Of dark eyes, despite their light colour, sunken and hollow, due to months, years probably, of struggling with sleep. They had looked at the world with some form of apathy, and when not with apathy, then with suspicion and superiority and contempt. But when looking at Mark they’d been different.</p><p>Hopeful.</p><p>Scared.</p><p>There was such a depth to Damien. People didn’t see it, Damien didn’t want them to see it. He acted cold, acted callous, like he didn’t care about anyone or anything, like nothing in the world could possibly affect or hurt him. Like he wasn’t volatile, or sensitive, beneath all that bravado, beneath his front of bastardisation.</p><p>Mark knew better. They had shared months together, and even before he had turned Damien’s power back on him, there had been moments where a different side to Damien shone trough.</p><p>Something softer, vulnerable and real.</p><p>Mark had treasured those moments. Where instead of insistent, or impatient, or harsh, Damien had been kind. Comforting him when waking up from a nightmare, coaxing him to eat or to sleep, his hands gentle, eyes unsure.</p><p>It was obvious he didn’t know what he was doing, that it didn’t come naturally to him, but Mark appreciated the effort.</p><p>He had seen glimpses of a different Damien, beneath all the bullshit.</p><p>He had seen a human Damien, someone redeemable, and he knew that person still existed.</p><p>During their last argument, right before he left, before Mark made him leave, when he’d been crying, calling out for Mark in a desperate attempt to fix things somehow, he’d felt it.</p><p>The humanity in him.</p><p>Damien had never been as real, as vulnerable as he was then.</p><p>But Mark was still angry. Furious in fact, with hurt and betrayal. Protective of a newfound family, and convinced that whatever he felt for the man in front of him was caused by nothing but deception, by manipulation and lies.</p><p>And he had made him go at last.</p><p>The nights following, Mark dreamt of nothing but haunted dark eyes, tears, Damien begging him.</p><p>He didn’t sleep much for weeks. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The feelings that should have gone with Damien, don’t.</p><p>Sam and him fight about it, one night before the end. He’s drunk, and he wants to call him. Wants to yell, and fight, and ask him why, why had he been such an ass, why did he always pretend, what had fucked him up so bad.</p><p>He yells at and fights with Sam instead. She refuses, admits that Damien had called again, the night before last. It’s the first contact she’s had with him since she reached out those many months ago, and after he called she changed her number.</p><p>Told him to fuck off.</p><p>Mark is furious.</p><p>“You had no right!”</p><p>“I, if anyone, had every right Mark! Look at what he’s done to you. Look at what he continues to do to you. It would be better if he-“ She stops, biting her lip.</p><p>“No no, continue, why stop there. You clearly have something on your mind, something you’ve wanted to say for a long time, no one’s stopping you. Go ahead, Sam. Speak your mind, it’s one of the things you’re best at after all.”</p><p>“It would be better if he had just died!”</p><p>She doesn’t regret it, though she does look guilty, and she didn’t intend for it to come out that way, or come out at all, that at least is clear.</p><p>Mark stares at her, before storming out the door, and things are never the same between them after that.</p><p> </p><p>He drinks more, and it’s not rare for him to see Damien’s face again after that fight, beaten and bloodied this time, that day he almost died.</p><p>Mark had been so angry when he showed up, only for it to quickly be washed away by the ensuing terror and fear, coming from all directions.</p><p>From seeing Damien get knocked to the ground, beaten to a pulp, unconscious, and he’d felt something inside him break. Adrenaline took over, panic, and he managed to heave Caleb away, to fall to his knees next to the man he never knew wether to call friend or enemy (lover?).</p><p>He had begged for him to make it, had begged his sister not to take him to the AM, but of course he was overruled. Why listen to him, it’s not like he knew what he was talking about, or had been held captive and experimented on for years.</p><p>Damien had made it, but Mark still wasn’t sure if he’d ever forgive Joanie for it.</p><p>For going back to work for them as well, her and Sam both.</p><p>The AM.</p><p>Another reason to run.</p><p> </p><p>He finally hits the road one day. Car bathed in the light of the early morning, his breath coming out in white puffs of air as he sneaks out, all the stuff he cared to keep, packed away in a duffel bag in the backseat. There’s a note for Joanie left on a counter inside her apartment, the band gig his clever excuse, and he stares at the slip of paper Chloe provided him, the address she managed at last to get out of Sam.</p><p>He feels better than he has in years.</p><p>Sober for weeks, and finally with some sort of plan, some sort of purpose.</p><p>It feels good to get back on the road, back behind the wheel, nothing but him and the many miles stretching out before him.</p><p>He stops at diners, at sleazy motels, and it feels almost like the last time, like those first four months back in the real world. Minus the confusion, the deception, his weekend state, and a comforting body next to him.</p><p>It takes him days, days of fast food, days of too soft beds that too many people have slept in, days of the same songs on repeat on the radio, again and again.</p><p>The sun is setting when he finally makes it, the sky shades of soft pinks and moody purples, when he leaves his car to knock upon a door.</p><p>Except he doesn’t.</p><p>He sits there instead, in silence, still inside the car, and he merely stares.</p><p>This was a horrible idea.</p><p>Mark can’t for the love of him fathom what he’d been thinking. It’s official, he’s gone insane. Driven across several state lines, leaving all the people who love him behind, to come chasing after-</p><p>What?</p><p>His hands grip the wheel, the leather creaking beneath his fingers, and he leans his head against it, cursing himself beneath his breath.</p><p>He knows what he’s running after. Something he himself turned away. Dark eyes, watching him, begging him to stay, to fix him, fix them.</p><p>He hadn’t.</p><p>Would Damien even want to seem him again? </p><p>He had left, had moved on, started a new life, a life away from atypicals, and the AM, and Mark. Mark had told him to.</p><p>Damien might even have met someone, might have changed, become a contributing member of society, and nothing like the man Mark remembered or once knew.</p><p>Maybe he had someone beside him, at night, in bed.</p><p>Mark feels like there is something stabbing at his chest, and struggles to breathe properly.</p><p>There had been something between them at some point, yes, but neither of them had ever spoken it out loud, or acted upon anything, and he honestly had no idea what Damien had wanted from him, or even seen in him in the first place.</p><p>He hadn’t been sure which feelings were his own, and which were Damien’s. He’d thought for a while that they had been all Damien, but what if in fact they had been all him?</p><p>Some weird kind of feedback loop or something between them when Damien’s powers had been at play. What if the feelings were his alone, or he’d wanted them from Damien, and so what he had sensed was real in that aspect, but they weren’t true, due to him gaining the other man’s powers. Mark’s feelings, Mark’s wants, all just him.</p><p>He knows he’s freaking out.</p><p>His thoughts crazy, running at a mile per minute, his heart racing in his chest, but he can’t stop. Catastrophizing, Joanie would call it.</p><p>Suddenly, there’s a knock on the window.</p><p>Mark jumps, startled and panicky, and when he looks outside he can’t breathe.</p><p>It’s him.</p><p>Of course it’s him.</p><p>Damien.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark stares.</p>
<p>He stares at that familiar mop of hair, he stares at that beaten up leather jacket he’s apparently still wearing, at the patched up tear he remembers fixing one night during their months.</p>
<p>He stares into those familiar eyes, dark, and stormy, and watching him.</p>
<p>When there’s no indication of him moving, Damien, after a moment, finally opens the car door for him, and Mark snaps out of his reverie and leaps to his feet, closing the door behind him.</p>
<p>“Hello, Damien-” He’s breathless at the sight of him, at this mess of a person he’s come to know. Come to care for in such a way.</p>
<p>“What the fuck are you doing here Mark?” It’s the same deep voice, the same growl, that has been echoing in certain dreams, having him wake up hot and restless.</p>
<p>“Wow, no ‘Hello Mark, how are you? Thanks for coming to see me in despite of all the shit that went down and the lack of closure.’Just straight to the point huh?”</p>
<p>Damien just glares, eyes angry, hard.</p>
<p>Mark falters.</p>
<p>“I just… I heard you called?”</p>
<p>“Why would you care? You <em>girlfriend</em> made it very clear to keep the fuck away, I doubt she’s changed her mind about that. Do you really have permission to even contact me? The leash she keeps you on has always been short.” The words are poison, coming from between clenched teeth, and Mark takes a deep breath, trying to push the anger away.</p>
<p>“She’s not my girlfriend anymore. And you don’t need to take that tone with me, nor speak of her in that way.”</p>
<p>Damien snorts, looking like he wants nothing more than to stalk away, to slam a door in Mark’s face and have it be done with.</p>
<p>But he doesn’t.</p>
<p>“Why are you here then? You made yourself <em>very</em> clear last we spoke. I left, remember? Yes, I <em>called</em> <em>her</em>, but excuse me for giving a fuck about you when I heard you were struggling!”</p>
<p>“Damien. I’m not-“ He reaches for him, but thinks better of it, wrapping his arms around himself instead.</p>
<p>“I’m not here to yell at you. Or fight, or anything of that matter.” Damien stares at the aborted gesture, his own clenched hands stuffed inside his pockets.</p>
<p>“I wanted to, well…talk.”</p>
<p>“Talk.”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>They stare at each other, the silence heavy between them, before Damien turns around and heads back to his apartment.</p>
<p>Mark is almost reaching for the car door again, when he hears him speak up.</p>
<p>“Come on then.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They sit on the couch together. Mark on one end, Damien the other, neither of them seemingly daring, or perhaps wanting, to look over.</p>
<p>This was a lot more difficult than he had expected to be honest.</p>
<p>Not that he had thought it would ever be easy with Damien, just.</p>
<p>As complicated a power as Damien’s was, it had been simpler with it. He could have reached out, and sensed what the other man wanted, he had enough control of his own powers to do that now that he could have done it without imposing his own wants.</p>
<p>It was the only thing he’d allowed Joanie to help him work on. Control.</p>
<p>But Damien’s powers still seem to be gone, Mark can sense nothing.</p>
<p>For better and for worse.</p>
<p>People had hated Damien for his ability, hated the man for what he’d let said ability turn him into, but honestly, Mark knew. He could have been so much worse.</p>
<p>To learn to control his wants in the way he had? To not abuse them to the true extent they could be abused? Damien had forced himself to push away at his own wants and desires, to leave room for the barest necessities, the least harmful wants, and no one seemed to get or appreciate that.</p>
<p>He could have been truly horrible, and despite seemingly everyone else thinking him so, Mark didn’t. At all.</p>
<p>Nowhere close to it, in fact.</p>
<p>Damien could have worked better on his control, yes, he could have truly made an effort in therapy, and effort with people, Mark wasn’t excusing him.</p>
<p>Damien had been an absolute ass.</p>
<p>Manipulative, controlloing, selfish.</p>
<p>There were no excuses for that, but there were, well. Explanations.</p>
<p>And Mark got it. He hadn’t lived it, the way Damien had for so many years, with the power, and unable to control it. But he’d had a taste, and he understood. </p>
<p>Damien had no one. Absolutely no one. He couldn’t.</p>
<p>He couldn’t reach out, or make any real connections, couldn’t create relationships with anyone.</p>
<p>His own want, his longing for it, would get in the way. It wouldn’t be true. Whatever strides he made, or anyone made with him, would be false.</p>
<p>He’d had no real, no true, interactions with people since he was a kid.</p>
<p>And if that didn’t fuck you up, then what did.</p>
<p>Mark was a social creature, he loved people, he couldn’t fathom having no one, to truly go through life entirely on his own.</p>
<p>Those years stuck in time had been the worst of his life.</p>
<p>And that loneliness, that absolute solitude, that was Damien’s every day.</p>
<p>When could he possibly have learned what normal interactions between people were? What love, connection, or empathy was.</p>
<p>His own parents didn’t even come back.</p>
<p>Deep down, Mark suspected that what Damien had wanted all along was for someone to get it. To get what it was like, for someone to understand.</p>
<p>Only then could he get what he truly desired, what he most likely wouldn’t even confess to himself.</p>
<p>Someone to want him. Someone to love him. For all that he was, what he truly was, every part of him, with and without his ability.</p>
<p>Of course the man was fucked up.</p>
<p>Built up walls of superiority, of delusions, and manipulation, and anger. It was all to protect himself, the narcissism hiding a lifetime of self-hatred, the anger a weapon to wield, the manipulation a useful tool.</p>
<p>He took on a new name, a new identity, to put as much distance as he could between himself and the Robert Gorham that had been, the one who was left behind, deemed worthless and unlovable by even his own parents.</p>
<p>Who would want to be that person?</p>
<p>He was fucked up, what he had done was fucked up, and Mark was not excusing it.</p>
<p>But he got it.</p>
<p>And he was surprised Joanie didn’t, being a therapist and all.</p>
<p>But maybe it was never up to her to help him.</p>
<p>Not that it was up to Mark either, but. He wanted to.</p>
<p>He knew, that Damien had always been redeemable. That in his own fucked up way, he had been trying to chase after something real.</p>
<p>He was fucked up, and broken, and quite terrible at times.</p>
<p>And Mark loved him.</p>
<p>“So…how have you been?”</p>
<p>“You did not come all this way for smalltalk, Bryant. Just say whatever the fuck it is you came to say already. I’m sure you can’t wait to go back to your perfect little life.”</p>
<p>“You know what Damien, fuck you. It’s not perfect. In fact, it’s pretty damn far from it. I can’t seem to get any decent job, because how the <em>hell</em> do I explain that I’ve been stuck in time and in a coma for several years? Or that I was subsequently kidnapped after the fact? Oh, not to mention, once finally back home, the only way I can find to cope with all the goddamn <em>trauma</em> I’ve been through is with <em>alcohol</em>. So now I’m stuck with a drinking problem too, which is just absolutely fantastic. This all on top of things going to hell with Sam, my sister acting like I’m some fucked up project for her to fix, and everybody around me constantly waiting for me to explode! And if that’s not enough, I can’t even fucking sleep, because I keep seeing your <em>goddamn</em> face before my eyes ever night. How is that for a perfect life?”</p>
<p>Mark doesn’t realise he’s shouting until he stops, out of breath from it, and the silence that follows is deafening. He didn’t realise he’d gotten to his feet either, overwhelmed by the anger, by everything he keeps locked inside at all times, so people around him don’t realise just how fucked up he is, how close he is to truly breaking.</p>
<p>He takes a step back.</p>
<p>“I-…I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to-“</p>
<p>Damien is suddenly standing in front of him, fists bunched in Mark’s hoodie, his eyes searching Mark’s own.</p>
<p>“What did she tell you?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Your <em>girlfriend</em>. What did she tell you, since you’re clearly here to fuck with me.”</p>
<p>“I’m not fucking with you, Damien, I don’t know what-“</p>
<p>He lets go of Mark, shoves him away, forcing him to take several steps back.</p>
<p>“I never expected you to feel the same way about me, nor did I really expect her to even tell you, insecure as she is, but what I least of all expected was for you to make fun of me. To use what I feel for you against me.” Damien’s words are cold, eyes hard, but his hands are shaking.</p>
<p>“Feel for me?” Mark mumbles, feeling almost like he’s coming out of a daze, everything foggy and nothing making any sense.</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em>, Mark, I-“ Suddenly Damien’s voice is breaking, and he’s turning away, and Mark feels like everything he’s been so desperately trying to grasp on to is slipping through his fingers.</p>
<p>“…Damien, I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sam has told me nothing, and even if she does know or do reveal something that could be used against you, I would never. I came here to-“ He falters.</p>
<p>They stand in silence, Damien still with his back to Mark, and he recalls the slope of those shoulders, recalls wanting to reach out for him, wanting to touch, to ease the tension out of stiff muscle.</p>
<p>The feeling remains the same, familiar as breathing.</p>
<p>He still wants him. All this time, and he still wants him. He knows he shouldn’t, has tried to fight it, but whatever there was between them, whether good or bad, he couldn’t keep away.</p>
<p>Didn’t want to.</p>
<p>That electricity, that pure magnetism, he’d never felt it with anyone else, not even Sam. Constantly pulling at him, drawing him in, drawing him closer.</p>
<p>“Hey…” Mark’s says, voice softer now. “Were you really coming back for me?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“That diner, you ran into Chloe.”</p>
<p>Damien turns back at last, his eyes distant, cautious, watching Mark as if he’s trying to figure him out, exhaustion written across his face.</p>
<p>“It was for selfish reasons. Because I wanted to see you, because I was… well I figured maybe I could still make you forgive me.”</p>
<p>“You were worried about me.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to.</p>
<p>Mark reaches out, moves in closer, carefully, in order not to startle Damien as the stray that he is, and caresses his cheek.</p>
<p>“Would you have snatched me up and taken me with you?”</p>
<p>Damien is staring at him, eyes wild, a little breathless when he replies.</p>
<p>“…I could have taken better care of you than she could. I know I could learn.”</p>
<p>Mark smiles, just barely, his eyes dropping to Damien’s lips, and then.</p>
<p>Then he’s kissing him.</p>
<p>His lips are soft against Mark’s own, slightly chapped, and he wants to lean into it, wants to drown in the taste of him, the comfort of another body against his.</p>
<p>But he can feel Damien slowly tensing up against him.</p>
<p>He pulls back, to find him staring, eyes just as wild as before, and Mark’s heart sinks in his chest.</p>
<p>So it was one-sided after all.</p>
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